Hallucinations
by Animegoil
Summary: They take him planet-side to go shopping but Allelujah feels small and brittle, meaningless and swallowed up in a humanity that left him behind for four years and continued without him. Post POW. Meisters 4some if you squint, plus Lyle


**Because I needed some Alle angst after his miraculous rescue. He spent four frickin' years as a _POW_. Don't tell me there's no angst potential in that. **

**Enjoy!  
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**_Hallucinations_**

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During those four years, he never truly _hallucinated_. The drug-induced hallucinations didn't count, and Hallelujah… well, Allelujah had never really been able to tell whether Hallelujah's touches were imagined or not, so the _memories_ of his touch were an even greater bafflement.

He dreamt a lot though. Dreamt, daydreamed, fantasized, became lost in the never-changing haze of strapped leather across his body and a little pinprick of light from the door blazing in his vision.

But, he wakes up to a soft noise and winces at the bright, candid lights bathing a simple but nicely furnished room. A chair, a bedside table and drawer, and a desk with a computer terminal. It all looks oddly familiar. He pulls himself up to a sitting position and realizes he's been lying on a _bed_, plush, comfortable, with the softest covers he's ever felt, and he realizes with a shock that he's _clean_— his arms slide luxuriously across the smooth, nearly silken covers and he relishes in the touch, awed at the diaphanous feel of the cool air against his clean skin.

He is hallucinating. The sensations are so much stronger and vivid than any of his dreams or hazy memories, stronger, even, than his drug-induced delusions. He must have reached a new level of craziness, or repression. Have they done something to him? He can't bring himself to panic. The hallucination is nice, after all. He doesn't mind it, it's a welcome change from hell. So complete, he thinks, running his hands through his hair, disconcerted by the ease at which his fingers run through the once oily, matted and grime-covered lumps. It's still damp, which means…

"Allelujah, are you out yet?"

His reality crashes down abruptly all at once, and he gasps.

He is not hallucinating.

It was Tieria's soft knock that had woken him, and Allelujah opens his mouth to respond. A strange sort of breathy sound escapes, strangled and weak, and Allelujah has to clear his throat and try again, glad when his scratchy voice rises into something acceptable.

"C—-come in," he manages to scrape out, still lost in the reality of the situation. _I'm back_, he thinks giddily, his surroundings taking on a brighter, sharper edge. _I'm out of that place…_ The mechanical doors whirr open, and Tieria steps in. Tieria, beautiful, frightening Tieria, whom Allelujah dreamed of, along with Lockon and Setsuna, and he hasn't changed at all. Allelujah stares, overwhelmed. He's… really back?

"Do you need…" Tieria's voice fades away like a veil thrown in the wind, his violet eyes widening.

Allelujah is too busy to notice Tieria's reaction. He's too busy absorbing his mere presence, coming to terms with the fact that _he's back_, and they're all together again, and he's out of that hell of whittling death-thoughts and despair, and, God… He wonders if he should cry, or laugh, but all he can summon is a nauseating sense relief and disbelief.

Tieria takes in a shaky inhale and steps closer to Allelujah, "My God… Allelujah…" his hand reaches out, hovering just above Allelujah's chest, and that's when Allelujah looks down and realizes that he's still damp from the shower, with a towel haphazardly pooled around his waist, barely covering him. He vaguely remembers collapsing on the bed after coming out of the shower and falling asleep. He's still not sure what it is that Tieria is seeing, but it becomes clear when Tieria runs a careful finger down Allelujah's side. Just one touch, and then Tieria withdraws his hand sharply, turning away abruptly, "You need new clothes. I'll go get something for you."

His voice wavered, and his hands stand close-fisted as Tieria walks back out. Allelujah remains frozen, reeling from the touch that seems to echo in his mind: burning a trail down his side, over each and every rib. He hasn't seen himself in a while, but he realizes he must be terribly thin. He runs his own hands down his sides, along the bumpy ridges of his ribs, but it's not the same. It doesn't leave the same burning trail of lava that Tieria's single finger did.

I~I

"Allelujah, wake up. I've brought some clothes for you."

It takes physical effort to drag himself from the pit of unconsciousness, but it helps that there are hands holding him and lifting him up carefully, as if he is porcelain. He thinks he might be, without Hallelujah to hold him up from inside. He blinks blearily to see that it is Tieria standing above him, looking pale and troubled.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "I must have fallen asleep again." The past two days have been mainly a blur of sleep interspersed with surreal moments of consciousness where he's transported to a strange world that is a parody of four years ago. He keeps questioning which parts he's imagined, which parts are new, which parts he remembers properly or not.

Tieria waves it off with a scoff that Allelujah thinks used to have a lot more derision in it.

"Try this on," he says, handing a shirt to him. Allelujah complies, pulling the fabric over his head and stretching his arms out high to put it on. Tieria makes a little choked sound, and Allelujah catches the sickened whirl of those violet eyes a split second before they turn away. He feels inexplicably ashamed that he's the cause of those strange emotions on Tieria's face.

"Does it fit?" Tieria says after a moment, his voice deceptively monotone.

Allelujah pulls at the billowing material and frowns, "No… it's too big."

Tieria reluctantly gives him another shirt, smaller, and clutches the one that Allelujah hands him back, standing there in front of him with his eyes carefully pointed to the side as Allelujah tries the next one on, "…And that one?"

"Yeah. It's good," a little tight across the shoulders, but everything else fits. Tieria looks him over, and his eyes look even more mournful, if that is (did it _use_ to be?) possible.

"…What?" Allelujah eventually asks. Tieria bites his lips, delicately, crossing his arms over his chest in a motion that speaks more of vulnerability than of defensiveness.

"That is Setsuna's shirt," he finally answers. Allelujah blinks, and looks down at himself. Years ago, there was no way that one of Setsuna's shirts would have fit on him. No possible way. And it's true that Setsuna's grown, but… Tieria's fingers tighten over the other, bigger shirt, and he adds listlessly, more to himself, "I brought it just in case…" he shakes his head suddenly and gestures towards another chair that Allelujah hadn't noticed before. There are pants and other clothes there, "Take your pick of what's there. Tomorrow we'll go shopping."

He makes a motion as if to leave, but stops halfway and stands there awkwardly, gazing at the shirt left in his hands. He finally raises his eyes, eyes that used to be stone cold and now _shine_ and seem to change hue and luster with emotions. Allelujah's breath leaves him for a moment as Tieria whispers, "I'm sorry, Allelujah. If I'd known… what you were going through… if I'd known you were there, I would have gotten you out immediately."

Allelujah closes his eyes, incredibly tired, and feels himself sagging and sinking into the mattress, the fingers of exhaustion crawling over his mind and along his arms like little tugging ants. He's surprised at the faint hint of bitterness in his voice when he says, "But you didn't know," he amends by adding in a mumble that fades quickly into non-existence, "It's not… your fault…"

He's asleep before Tieria even closes the door.

I~I

The next day, they take him planetside to go shopping.

"It's a bit late to go out if we want to go eat and shop, isn't it?" Lyle asks. Allelujah still can't quite bring himself to not do a double-take every time he looks at him, or hears his voice. It doesn't hurt quite as much anymore, (four years to come to term with the fact, no?) but it still leaves him melancholy and hollow. He can't look him in the eye.

Tieria closes the door to their elevator cabin and sits down across from Allelujah, glancing sharply at Lyle, "It will do. We only have a few stores to stop by," there is a surprising thread of ice underlining his words, but Allelujah can't blame him.

Of course, what Tieria isn't saying is that it's Allelujah's fault they're leaving so late. It is nearly two in the afternoon and they're just boarding the orbital elevator. By the time they get back, it'll be late at night, and Allelujah slumps against the seat at the idea of staying out all that time. He honestly doesn't know if he has the energy to do this. The reason it's already two, after all, is because the first three times that Setsuna came by to wake him up, Allelujah remained blissfully unresponsive.

"Buckle up," Setsuna says from next to him.

"Ah, yeah," Allelujah looks down, but is confused at the lack of buckles or obvious buttons, "Wait, mine isn't…"

"Oh, they remodeled the seatbelt system two years ago. Too many children were unbuckling themselves and getting hurt," Tieria explains as Setsuna stands up from his seat. He reaches behind Allelujah's head and pushes a button, which releases a latch that he can then take hold of and pull across Allelujah's lap, disappearing into the seat after Setsuna presses the button again. He bends down to look Allelujah in the eye, with that same hammer-blunt gaze of before, and his thumb brushes briefly across Allelujah's own.

"Is that okay?" his low voice rumbles, so much deeper than it used to be, and it sends a warm, tight jolt through Allelujah's chest. He nods wordlessly and observes Setsuna sit back down and pull the security belt over himself, shocked at the leanness of that body, the inches it's grown and the length of that face. It suits him, strangely, but at the same time, Allelujah no longer feels like the older brother of that sixteen-year-old child, able to ruffle his hair and tease him about the milk Lockon used to make him drink. No, now he is the one who feels like the younger sibling who needs to be helped out and humored.

"Man, these rides take so long," Lyle complains, pulling out a pair of headphones and settling back into the chair, "I'm gonna watch a movie."

Tieria eyes him oddly, and Allelujah can understand why. Lyle leans back against the seat, sprawled out just like Lockon would have. But there is something fundamentally different about the motions—these have a sharper edge, a dangerous tilt to them. It's like losing a body part, Allelujah muses, and then running your fingers across the empty space. Something is missing.

Or, Allelujah realizes, raising his hand to brush his fingers through his hair, just like getting a haircut. His fingers expect to weave through inches more of hair, and instead meet abruptly with air. Setsuna trimmed his hair yesterday. Allelujah had been dubious, but then remembered that Lockon had taught Setsuna how, even if he'd always taken care of Setsuna's hair anyway.

"Do you still like McDonald's?" Setsuna asks suddenly.

Allelujah nods.

"Then we'll eat there."

Tieria mutters something about empty calories and nutritional value, but Allelujah interrupts, "What else has changed while I've been gone?"

I~I

When they step out of their cabin, the noise is deafening. Allelujah takes a step forward and staggers under the full weight of gravity. Setsuna's hand is immediately on his waist, steadying him, and when Allelujah straightens, the hand falls back, but Setsuna doesn't, remaining protectively close. Their shoulders brush against each other, and Allelujah's shock at the warmth spreading through his shoulder quickly morphs into gratitude. Setsuna, even more than Tieria, is the rock that Allelujah can stand on, solid under his feet.

Allelujah can't help it. His eyes rake over the multitude, taking in the sounds of humanity—so many voices, the air ringing with announcements, scuffles, the sounds of baggage and conversations, electronics and music. He stares, wide-eyed, at the noises and sights he'd lacked for these four years. So many colors—so many different faces, with all sort of clothing and poses, children and grown-ups, women and men, all laughing, smiling, some frowning, some bored, some passive, but all of them so relaxed in comparison to…

Lyle claps him on the back and says, "Noisy, isn't it?" Allelujah manages a mute nod.

Tieria frowns, "If you feel uncomfortable at all you need to—"

Allelujah shakes his head and takes a step forward, Setsuna trailing faithfully besides him, "I've… missed this."

They walk outside, and the noise subsides, but the bustle doesn't. There is a breeze that flirts along his arm, and warmth that compliments it, emanating from…

He glances up and is taken aback by the sun. He stares at that blinding ball of helium and hydrogen, letting it burn his retinas, even though that's certainly not conducive to piloting his Gundam, and he has to squint because it burns, but he doesn't care. It's bright—the brightest thing he's seen in four years, and he can feel the heat sizzling his sun-deprived skin…

(It was always too cold in there).

"Allelujah?"

He blinks and lowers his gaze, momentarily blinded and seeing neon-flashes dancing behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes to help adjust them. He opens them again to see Setsuna watching him closely. The neon afterimage is still there, a reminder of the warmth still splayed on his skin.

"Can you see now?"

Allelujah breathes in the air, filled with the humid scent of earth, the stale burn of machinery, the warm wafts of food and the sweeter breezes of perfume and flowers, and looks at the rainbow palette of colors surrounding him. He'd forgotten some of these colors even existed—it reminds him of a painting, too vivid to be real, but it somehow is.

He nods, "Yeah, I can see now."

I~I

There is a mall nearby, they tell him. Allelujah watches everyone around him, blushing when his gaze is returned, but he can't help it. There is a flock of teenagers that walk next to them for a short time, and Alleujah is transfixed by the triviality of their talk, by the carelessness of their laughs and the spontaneous bursts of excitement over the most meaningless of things. A new song. A new camera. The pictures posted on so-and-so's blog. The concert coming up. The spatial-calculus exam. He's also surprised at the extent of their complaints—the homework took a whole _hour_, and isn't that teacher a prick? Mother grounded me. He was talking to another girl instead of me!

He doesn't know what to make of it. On the one hand, he's never had those "problems", so the those vaguely jealous feelings are nothing new, but he supposes he's forgotten how other people work, and what normal people talk about, and what they do in their normal lives. He's forgotten what normal, non-threatening, non-tortured voices sound like. Their laughter as well— it startles him at first, until by the time the teenagers take a turn where they go straight, he's used to it and feels his lips twitching a couple times in mere response to hearing their unrestrained amusement. He doesn't know if Setsuna notices or cares, a silent figure ever-present near his side, but he doesn't mind. The warmth the soaks into his shoulder is more of a comfort than empty words.

Lyle fills most of the conversation, just like Lockon would have. But once again, it's different. There's not that familiarity; his topics of conversation are random, and not catered to them the way Lockon's were. Though of course, there hasn't been much of an opportunity for them to get to know each other yet, so Allelujah can't blame him. He doesn't know yet that Setsuna likes to talk about food and machines, cars in particular, and that Tieria will indulge himself in conversations about technology and politics, as well as the occasional 20th century bands that he likes. Allelujah… well, he used to like talking about cooking, and music. Hallelujah sometimes goaded him into talking about clothing, which occasionally drew Tieria in as well. Lockon always liked to talk about quirky things, new little facts he'd learned. About politics as well, and he never wasted an opportunity to show Setsuna a new toy mecha model they'd come out with, or some such item.

Somehow though, Lyle has managed to coax Tieria into a reluctant conversation about where he buys his cardigans, as Tieria notes the styles on the window mannequins. Allelujah notes them as well, and makes a mental checklist of everything he wants to come back and try out, or buy or see. Despite his melancholy thoughts, he does feel something inside him responding to the charged, vibrant atmosphere around him, buoying his weary steps.

For the first time in four years, the faces that glance across his take no account of him and remain uninterested, uncaring, and not the vulture-like, sneering disinterest of the guards, either. But Allelujah doesn't know if he likes the change or not. On the one hand, it's a relief, on the other he realizes that back in the big picture of things, he is unimportant.

There is also the fact that he is alone. A pair of tacky, oversized heels with green sequins clatters past his field of vision, screaming for attention. Hallelujah would have made a disparaging comment. Allelujah doesn't mind them. And it keeps going on like that—the ridiculous glasses perched like an antique on that man's nose, and Allelujah wonders what Hallelujah would have said about them. He would have definitely said something about that 'Come 'N' Shop' sign, or the restaurant they walk by, 'Chinese Ho'.

Allelujah clenches his jaw and tries to keep from imagining what Hallelujah would have said everywhere they go.

I~I

By the time they reach the mall, Allelujah's head is ringing. The streets are an endless bustle, a jostling push and shove, and he's not used to the unconcerned glances that flit over his face, nor to the unintended contact of elbows and hands. He feels small and brittle, meaningless and swallowed up in a humanity that left him behind for four years and continued without him. It's like jumping into the deep end of the pool with only a basic knowledge of how to float, or like getting off a trampoline. Unsteady, uncertain, and only Setsuna's steadying arm wrapped around his own keeps him from tripping and stumbling at many a bump-in.

A couple steps within the wide expanse of the mall's entrance, the trill of Tieria's cell phone breaks out, and Tieria whips out the device and puts it up to his ear, "Yes?" he pauses, hums once, and says, "Understood," before hanging up. He glances at their curious gazes and does the Tieria version of an exasperated eye-roll, which is to purse his lips and say tersely, "It was just Ian. He wants me to get him a pair of gloves. There should be a store on the way."

Lyle glances at his hands and flexes them, "You know what? I'll get some too, my old practice ones are getting worn down," he grins, "And boy do I need to practice. Cherudim has a hell of a kick. Damn hard to control the lil' bugger."

Allelujah notices that his glance when scouting the area for potential eavesdroppers just before his statement was sharp with experience. Tieria notices as well, and his fine eyebrows burrow in the center of his forehead, but Setsuna remains silent, though he'd been watching just the same. Of course, Setsuna always remains silent, so that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Tieria and Lyle break off to get the gloves, leaving Setsuna and Allelujah to sit on one of the benches in the front, and Allelujah is glad for the respite. He glances around him constantly, almost tempted to put his hands up to his ears to block out some of the noise, but at the same time, the noise is grounding and real by the same virtue of its clashing ring.

Setsuna swings his legs once, looking straight ahead, "How's Arios?"

Allelujah shrugs, "The system is great. It's even smoother than Kyrios's, and the upgrades make it easier to use…" he blows out a gust of air, "But you saw my simulation results. They're terrible."

"It's been four years," Setsuna says wisely, "You'll get them back up," it's not meant as a comforting statement, but as a factual one. You _will_ get them back up, because there is no choice. Something sinks in the pit of Allelujah's stomach, cold and heavy, and his grip tightens on the edge of the bench.

"Are you ready?"

Allelujah thinks for a moment that he means it in the sense of getting up and going, because that's what Setsuna does. But Setsuna's eyes are that steely, fiery red they get when they're discussing the future, the past, and the things they must do.

Allelujah opens his mouth, but can't give him the answer he wants, "No."

No. He doesn't want to fight anymore, he's not sure he can. Without Hallelujah, it's Allelujah's hands that will pull the trigger, and he realizes he's afraid. He doesn't know if he can do it. (Hallelujah would be mocking him just about now).

Setsuna looks mildly put off by the answer, the corner of his mouth downturning and his eyebrows inching just a smidgen closer together.

"But I'm going to do it anyway," Allelujah smiles grimly, "Arios is waiting. Marie is waiting. It's what I was born to do."

There is no room for pity or sympathy in Setsuna's eyes, just firm resolution, agreement that yes, this is what must be done. There is little to no choice in the matter. He nods, apparently satisfied with Allelujah's answer, and then tilts his head to the side, hands digging into his pockets.

"Are you cold?"

Allelujah realizes at that point that he's been rubbing his arms absently. He puts his arms down and shrugs, "A little." The sun isn't shining on him anymore, replaced by a thermostat-regulated chill (It was so cold there). To his surprise, Setsuna begins to unwrap the scarf from around his neck and presses the soft material into Allelujah's hands. The material is warm in the middle from Setsuna's body heat, and he resists the temptation to bury his face in the warmth, and breathe in deep of Setsuna's smell to see if it has changed after four years or not, "Thank you."

Setsuna says nothing and sits back down next to Allelujah, watching him put it on. Allelujah had rarely worn scarves, and Setsuna stares and then tugs the material so that it lies more or less like it does on him. His hands are curiously careful and gentle, but like all of Setsuna's actions, firm and straightforward. Allelujah dips his head and feels reassured by the warmth of the fuzzy fabric shielding his face and neck, and by the solid line of Setsuna's body pressed against his side, heavy and comforting. The odd thought flashes through his head that maybe, even if he doesn't have Hallelujah or Marie anymore, he may not be as alone as he thinks.

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**Reviews appreciated, thanks! **


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